


Human Touch

by trillian_jdc



Series: The Power of Touch [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, Massage, Mystrade Monday, Mystrade Monday Prompts, Secret Skills, Spa Treatments
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:29:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27216463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trillian_jdc/pseuds/trillian_jdc
Summary: Sherlock sees his body as “just transport”, so he ignores it. Mycroft, though, hires experts to maintain his, which means his spa days are amazing. Particularly the time he discovers an unexpected acquaintance with talented hands.
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade
Series: The Power of Touch [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1997254
Comments: 20
Kudos: 118





	1. Chapter 1

"We're desperate, Sherlock. The investigation's at a critical stage, and we can't take Rosie with us. Can't you ask Mycroft to mind her just for this afternoon?" 

"I'm afraid not, John. Mycroft's whereabouts today are more highly classified than usual, and even I dare not interrupt them." 

"What can he be doing that's so much more important than the rest of his time?" 

"You know I consider my body merely transport... he thinks of his as an expensive race car. Today is set aside for his semi-annual maintenance plan."

"You mean... Mycroft's having a spa day?!?"

* * *

As Mycroft lounged in the garden tub, he could feel the tension beginning to leave his body. The sauna had been an excellent start, to increase blood flow and loosen his muscles, as well as a good test of the claimed waterproof qualities of his tablet case. He may be following an established relaxation plan, but that didn't mean he had to stop multi-tasking. He'd caught up on all the gossip headlines he needed for the next round of social small talk and chit chat for the next few months. 

The followup oil-infused soak kept him relaxed while softening his skin and providing a quiet place to realign his mental filing cabinet while sipping cucumber water. Then, he was due for an all-over skin treatment, including manicure, followed by his favorite, the massage. Only experts were allowed to participate in the overall process, which included touching him, to make the entire process most efficient and ensure he had the best response possible for the time invested. His assistant had mentioned something about his usual masseur not being available, but he trusted her to obtain someone equally professional. And discreet. 

It wasn't cheap, of course, to rent out an entire spa and require full security clearances of all staff on premises, but as he'd gotten older, hrmm, more experienced, he'd realized that he was more than just a mind in a shell. His entire self needed, deserved, to be reset regularly so that he could contribute at his highest levels. 

And reducing his stress and eliminating tension was a benefit to both him and anyone with whom he had to deal.

* * *

After exfoliation and polishing, he felt as though he were glowing as he entered the dimly lit room. He removed and hung his robe, moving unhurriedly, before lying face down, naked, on the prepared massage table. He noticed from the minute changes in air pressure when the masseur entered the room, but the man had been well-prepared, as he said nothing. He simply took the previously selected oil, touched Mycroft gently on the shoulder blades to announce his presence, and began sweeping strokes down his back and arms. 

The masseur moved slowly and thoroughly through all the major muscle groups of Mycroft's shoulders and back. As he moved to working his thighs, Mycroft resolved to request this particular masseur again. He was extraordinary, seeming to know just how much pressure was needed, and where. His skin tingled in the wake of the man's touch. 

As the session progressed, Mycroft wondered if this was what an out-of-body experience felt like. He was there, but he was not there, floating through a warm cloud. He couldn't think, but instead of that being a frightening prospect, it was a reassuring, relaxing, rejuvenating one. This was truly the reset he had needed. He had never felt so calm and peaceful and safe.


	2. Chapter 2

"Mr. Holmes? Mycroft?" The words came swirling back into his consciousness, as if from very far away. Why did that voice sound so familiar? He was remembering dark nights, dank alleys, an attractive man directing a team... why was he thinking about a crime scene? Oh, because that was Detective Inspector Lestrade's voice. 

"Am I dead?" Mycroft muttered as he worked to raise his heavy eyelids. "I cannot seem to move and might be hallucinating." 

He heard a chuckle. "Take it easy, Mr. Holmes. You went deep." A firm hand rested lightly on his shoulder blade. "Didn't mean to surprise you." 

Mycroft finally pried his eyes open only to see the gorgeous Greg Lestrade bending over and peering into his face. He closed his eyes again. He forced his tone to remain even and resolutely did not think about his undressed state, a difficult task given how much he enjoyed hearing the man's voice. "I did not expect one of Scotland Yard's finest to be moonlighting as a masseur." 

"Erm. Well. Did some training in support of the lads' football team. Think it was my clearance that helped more for this job." Greg's hand continued stroking his back. "You're tensing again. Let me help you with that." Greg again began working over Mycroft's shoulders and around his spine. 

The exquisite feel of Greg's touch was somehow even more magnified, now that Mycroft knew who exactly was kneading and soothing his muscles. 

"You are quite skilled, Lestrade." Mycroft congratulated himself on managing to push out the compliment without his voice wavering. "I fear that I will be so relaxed I am unable to walk after this session." 

"'m just happy to help. Someone like you deserves a bit of pampering. Can't imagine how you go day to day with what you were carrying in these shoulders."

"That information should be classified, as you were reminded when you took this booking." 

"No worries, Mr. Holmes. Can and will keep a secret." 

Mycroft relaxed further. Of course the inspector could be trusted. Even in unusual circumstances. 

Greg continued, "You can, too, obviously. Who would have guessed you were hiding this under your suits?" 

Mycroft coughed, slightly, disconcerted. "I beg your pardon, Detective Inspector?" 

"Think you should probably call me Greg, at this point." Greg chuckled. "Just, you're much better toned than one would expect from what Sherlock says.... Oh, bit of tension there." Greg went quiet as he concentrated on smoothing out the knot his words had created. 

After an uncomfortable silence, Mycroft muttered into the face pillow, "Mycroft. Please call me Mycroft. And if you could refrain from mentioning my brother, given the circumstances..." 

"Oh, yeah, sorry about that. Not helping, should have realized. But I think I'm about done here. Let me get your robe." 

Holding still, Mycroft cleared his throat. "If it's all the same to you, I would prefer to be left alone now." Lestrade... Greg... might have seen him _au naturel_ before he was aware of his presence, but he wasn't about to face the man that way. 

"Of course. Glad to be of service. Feel free to call on me again." 

After he heard the door close, Mycroft let the last bit of tension out of his spine. Of all the people to encounter! And what hidden talent! Lestrade's hands were amazing. He continued ruminating on how pleasantly surprising the day had been as he showered, dressed, and left the spa.


	3. Chapter 3

Days later, Mycroft Holmes once again found himself concerned about his younger brother and his little friend. The hostage situation had been completely unexpected, as had the resulting explosion. Now, he all he could do was wait to hear how bad the damage and how extensive the wounds were. 

He stood next to his car, in the shadows at the edge of the taped-off crime scene. That was where Greg Lestrade spotted him before he strode over. 

"Mycroft!" Greg held out his hand to be shaken, clapping the other over Mycroft's shoulder. "Oooh, some tension there, mate." 

"Do you blame me, Greg?" Mycroft briefly smiled, tight-lipped, at the grey-haired man he was now on a first-name basis with. Well, after someone had seen you unclothed, he supposed there was more familiarity implied. "The situation had no need to escalate to this extent, but Sherlock apparently thought John needed a distraction from his worry over the world health crisis. How much cleanup is needed?" 

"Not as bad as it seems, really. The house was abandoned, the only people injured are the bad guys, and there's actual, physical evidence for the case, so I don't have to be creative with Sherlock's deductions in my report." 

"How reassuring. If you don't need an excuse to avoid arresting them, I can conclude my evening early." Mycroft moved to open the car door.

"So can I, for once. Team's got it under control. How about you let me take those knots out?" 

Mycroft paused. It sounded highly appealing, but there were boundaries to maintain. "Really, I could not presume on your generosity, Greg." 

"Call it a trade, then. 'm sure you have better scotch on offer than I do. I'll do it for a drink after." 

Mycroft turned to face Greg and swept his eyes up and down the man in front of him. He seemed to mean it, and yet there was something else in the offer. A mystery, then, to pursue. His brother wasn't the only one with curiosity. "All right. May I offer you a lift?" 

"To yours, then." Greg smiled and entered the car.

* * *

Upon arrival, Greg hung his overcoat, took charge, and began instructing Mycroft, who promptly found himself face down on his bed, shoes off, head pillowed on his crossed arms, and stripped to his vest. 

"Just a light tune-up, right?" Greg said, sitting beside him, before reminding Mycroft of what true relaxation felt like. Greg's hands, even without touching his skin directly, kept him grounded but detached, able to let go of his concerns and stress. He was doing his best to keep from vocalizing his release, as moans might be misinterpreted in this particular room. 

"Now, if you turn over, I can do your arms." 

Mycroft took a quick inventory and realized that that might be a bit embarrassing, as while most of his muscles were relaxing, one particular organ had woken up and taken interest. "Please do not take this amiss, but I'd rather not at the moment. I seem to find your presence inappropriately stimulating." 

"Mmmm? Oh! Erm... that's a common massage side effect for some men. Nothing to worry about." 

Mycroft resolutely remained face down. "Perhaps. But I would rather not introduce such a factor into our burgeoning friendship." 

"Shame, that." 

That phrase was surprising enough that Mycroft was willing to risk exposure. He propped himself up on one elbow, torso facing Greg. "Pardon?" 

Greg grinned that devious smile at him. "Can't blame a bloke for noticing. Terribly unprofessional of me, I know, but I very much appreciated the view prior. You, Mycroft, have quite the arse." 

Mycroft goggled at Greg, speechless, who continued. "And those legs! Whew!" 

"Lestrade, I fear..." 

"Don't 'Lestrade' me now. Nothing wrong with being appreciated. Thought you should know." Greg shrugged. "Nothing says I'm going to do anything about it." 

Mycroft swallowed, before deciding he could meet daring with courage. "And what if I might like you to?" 

"Well then! Different kettle of fish, that." Greg wiggled his fingers at Mycroft. "I can show you a different kind of rubdown." He hopped off the bed and extended his hand. "But first, let's get that drink, maybe some supper, and chat a bit. Then, once you're ready to relax, we can come back to the topic." 

Mycroft took his hand as he climbed off the bed. "Perhaps you can instruct me, so I can return the favor. I've been called a quick learner." 

Greg looked at the long, graceful fingers twined with his. "Oh, with these, I can only imagine what you could do." He shivered and let go. "Right, talk first, touch after." He gestured for Mycroft to precede him out of the room, swatting him lightly on the arse as he passed by. 

Mycroft jumped and glared. Greg shrugged. "Couldn't resist. Deserves appreciation." Mycroft broke into a smile, reached back, took Greg's hand, and led him out.

**Author's Note:**

> My thanks to Lavender_and_Vanilla for her essential help getting this back on track during a key moment. 
> 
> This week's Mystrade Monday prompt was “Am I dead?”, which appears in the second chapter. 
> 
> This premise was originally spurred into being by this [comic by kitten-kin](https://kitten-kin.tumblr.com/post/628663262280581120/kitten-kin-kitten-kin-someone-write-this).


End file.
